


Malon's Bargain

by BlueNightmare



Category: The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Bondage, F/M, Humiliation, Sexual Coercion, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2018-12-07 16:49:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11627751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueNightmare/pseuds/BlueNightmare
Summary: While the future Hero of Time slept, Hyrule fell into darkness. At Lon Lon Ranch, darkness takes the form of one man, and for Malon, there is no escaping him.





	1. Chapter 1

The dark king of the broken land had spoken.

The Lon Lon Ranch that had stood in the fields of central Hyrule for generations had been given a new owner. Ingo, the tall, sunken-eyed stable hand, had petitioned the new King Ganondorf for ownership of the ranch he had toiled in for over a decade while the owner, Talon, lazed about and slept day in, day out, reaping the harvest Ingo had sown.

It took little to convince the evil Gerudo king. A few promises of fine horses in years to come was all that was needed for Ganondorf's seal of approval. Ingo had left the ranch as a lowly worker, but he returned as its master with a signed contract to prove his words.

Of course, the first thing Ingo did with his new power was order Talon off the ranch, and never to return. Though shattered at the sudden loss of his beloved home, Talon nevertheless duly prepared to abandon the ranch that had been his home since his birth, and his father's home, and his father's. He had little enough to pack, but only one thing in the world still truly mattered to him anyway: his dearest daughter, Malon.

Yet Malon refused to leave the ranch along with her father.

She knew how badly Ingo treated the horses when left alone with them, and he had used her knowledge against her, taking her aside and threatening to do far worse still if the young girl did not agree to remain at the Ranch. She would be his servant now, as Ingo had once been Talon's. Malon loved her father dearly and couldn't bear to part with him, but she knew that the horses would suffer greatly if she did not do as Ingo demanded. There was only one choice the kind-hearted young girl could make if she wanted to live with herself.

Nothing Talon said would change her mind once it was set. He begged his daughter to come with him, over and over again, but when he left the Ranch he left alone, cast out into a world in which he owned nothing and knew nobody. 

The parting broke both of their hearts. Every day, Malon reconsidered her decision in her head... but she knew she could not leave her post. Day by day she was discovering the depths of Ingo's cruelty, and if she went back on her bargain, the horses would pay the price.

The next few years were hard on Malon. Despite her young age Ingo forced her to do all of the work in the Ranch, caring for the horses, milking the cows and keeping the premises tidy, cooking and cleaning, all while enduring a hail of insults and taunts from her new master. If she was too slow for his fickle tastes, Ingo would rant and curse and threaten the horses with violence or death, and Malon knew that he meant it. Over the years he had proven it, savagimg the horses with his whip whenever he drank too much, leaving the beautiful creatures bloodied and terrified.

It brought tears to Malon's eyes to see them mistreated so, but she could not retaliate. She would be defying not only Ingo, but the dark king Ganondorf who had elevated him, and that could only bring catastrophe upon the ranch.

She had no power. She knew that the only thing she could do was shield the horses with her diligence and her quiet obedience, and so she endured her servitude, the constant insults and threats, the endless, often back-breaking work for an ungrateful master. She drew small comfort from the fact that Ingo had never resorted to harming her, at the least, and from the constant presence of the horses she loved so dearly.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep Malon going as the years ticked by and she grew older, and Ingo's greedy eyes began to wander towards her with growing interest.

~ ~ ~

Seven years had passed, and the small girl had blossomed into a beautiful young woman.

From the window of the cozy ranch house, Ingo watched Malon hard at work as she boarded up a hole in the stables caused by the previous night's vicious winds. It was a common arrangement for them, with her doing all of the real work while he remained inside, relaxing and occasionally juggling financial records. Just the way he liked it.

Every day he pushed the girl to work harder and for longer, enjoying his enduring victory over Talon though his control over his former boss's lovely daughter. He could have put Talon to work instead if he had really wanted to, offered it to him as a backhanded offer of help to a destitute man, but as fun as it would have been to reduce his former master to a servant, it was even more so to enslave the person he loved most in the world.

Oh, Talon sent letters to Malon every month, and she to him, but Ingo intercepted each and every one and burned them to ash in the fireplace before they ever raeched their intended eyes. The bond between father and daughter would remain severed as long as he had his way.

Yet as nice as it was to make her do all of the work around the ranch, Ingo had learned to find an even greater delight in their arrangement.

~ ~ ~

Now eighteen, Malon had become extremely attractive as she matured, and Ingo often found himself watching her go about her work just to witness her long auburn hair glittering in the sunlight, her hips swaying as she walked, the radiant smile she gave to the horses every day, but never to him. Her very presence was a temptation and a torture for a wealthy, powerful but lonely man.

He cursed Malon's reticence around him, cursed the long skirts and modest blouses she always wore... and some nights he cursed the way she always closed the shutters on her bedroom window before she undressed.

Ignorant of the thoughts of her observer as she toiled beneath the oppressive sun, Malon finished nailing a board across the hole in the damaged stable and wiped her brow clean of sweat. The air was cloyingly humid, but she did not allow herself to falter in her work. There was still much to be done, and few enough hours in the day to do it. Sighing to herself, she bent over to retrieve the next board from the ground.

Her rear rose into the air, modest curves pressing tantalizingly against the stretching cloth of her purple skirt, and Ingo's beady eyes widened. The hemline of her skirt rose a few inches from her feet as she bent, offering the ranch master a rare glimpse of the girl's slender legs, her tawny hair falling about her face like a tattered curtain. Breath stolen away, Ingo found himself unable to avert his gaze until Malon stood up once more, none the wiser, and returned to working on the stable wall.

Desire rushed through Ingo's lanky body, and sudden pressure in his lower regions suggested that his underwear was suddenly too small for him. 

Damn her. Was this her way of rebelling? Putting on such a show for a man who couldn't have her?

...Or could he?

Ingo stopped and thought about this. It was just the two of them alone in this ranch, if one discounted the horses and cows and cuccos. Moreover, Ingo was the owner of the ranch, and Malon was essentially his servant, forced to work for him in exchange for the safety of the animals. She had put up with a great deal from Ingo over the last seven years just for that assurance. More than most people would have.

Perhaps he was being too generous,him pondered, scratching his spindly mustache. Perhaps if Malon could be persuaded to cook and clean and build and tend the animals in trade for the protection of her precious horses, she could be pushed to do other things as well. After all, the animals were depending on her.

~ ~ ~

He continued to watch Malon all through the afternoon and into the evening as she cleaned and chopped firewood and cooked their dinner, considering the best opportunity to make his move.

They ate in silence, as they often did. The two of them might have lived in the same little cottage, bur they rarely found anything to say to each other unless Malon chose to bring up a new task in the ranch that needed seeing to, such as the hole in the stables she had repaired today. Ingo's answer was always the same; that it was Malon's job to see to those things. By now the sweet farm girl had learned to keep it to herself and quietly do what needed to be done on her own.

She often seemed uncomfortable around him, and it was plain that she disliked him. Of course, she had every reason to, he reminded himself as he tore apart the meal she had prepared for him. After all, he was her jailer, her slave-driver, and the reason she could no longer see her beloved father. She wasn't _supposed_ to like him, she was supposed to suffer for her father's poor treatment of Ingo over the years. He enjoyed seeing her downcast eyes and the way she flinched when their hands touched, and the thought of miserable old Talon rotting away in a tavern somewhere with his only daughter a distant memory.

"I'm going to bed," Malon informed him, her voice a subdued whisper, as she collected her plate and cutlery and rose from her chair. Without a second glance at Ingo she deposited them in the kitchen sink and circled around the dining table, wordlessly heading upstairs to her bedroom. Her only sanctuary.

Ingo heard the click of her door closing and his heart leaped in his chest. On several occasions in the past he had taken that sound as a signal to dash out the front door and edge around the house to Malon's window in hopes of seeing something he shouldn't, but had been foiled by the closing shutters every single time. Tonight he would not bother with such roundabout methods; they had failed him before, and he had finally made up his mind.

The Ranch was his, and Malon had come part and parcel with the Ranch. Therefore, she also belonged to him.

With tentative steps Ingo began to creep up the staircase after Malon, living in fear of a creaking board or accidental stumble giving him away before he was ready. He let out a gentle sigh of relief as he reached the landing with no mishaps and continued to advance along the hallway with steps as cautious as any stalking cat. He passed his own room, the bathroom, the storage closet without incident.

Finally, Ingo drew to a halt outside Malon's room. He took a deep breath to steady himself and squared his shoulders to seem authoritative...

Then reached for the door handle, and turned.


	2. Chapter 2

Malon breathed a deep sigh of relief as she closed the bedroom door behind her. A lone candle flickered in the corner, the only source of light in the little room, projecting dancing shadows across the far wall.

Alone in her sanctuary at last. 

The day had been long and hard, and Malon's aching muscles pleaded for respite. This was nothing unusual for the farm girl, so accustomed to doing everything around the ranch by herself, and nor was the dismal mood that had taken her as she ate her evening meal with Ingo. The wicked ranch owner was the architect of all of her miseries, and she loathed being forced to spend so much time around him, learning to deafen herself to his threats and barbs, pretending she didn't see the increasingly lingering looks he gave her.

If only she could leave. As things were, she had no choice but to remain at the ranch and endure her servitude and Ingo, and hope that one day the knight in shining armor she dreamed of would appear to save her from her predicament.

With a heavy heart she pulled the shutters closed around her window, locking them tightly from the inside, sealing herself off from the world for another night. Sometimes she would sneak outside after dark and enjoy the fresh air, even sing to herself, but tonight the only thing she wanted to do was sleep. Almost sleepwalking her way through the motions, she kicked off her stout leather boots and peeled away her sweat-damp socks, wrinkling her nose at the smell as she carelessly tossed them into the corner.

Unclasping the brass medallion that pinned her yellow scarf in place, she set both items down on her bedside table, a bittersweet reminder of the father who had given them to her as a gift on her eleventh birthday... the last birthday they had spent together before his exile, seven long years ago.

No. Dwelling on that now would only sadden her more. Slipping her fingers beneath the tight embrace of her thick leather belt, Malon grasped the hem of her blouse and pulled the garment up over her head, exposing her bare skin to the chill of the night air. One candle was not enough to chase away the cold. Shivering in discomfort, she began to look forward to her warm nightgown and soft bed as she neatly folded the blouse in preparation for morning.

_Click._

The unexpected noise resounded through the little room, jolting Malon out of her weary thoughts. Heart thumping, she spun around to find her bedroom door wide open and the gangly, hairy-armed figure of Ingo standing in the door frame, stroking his mustache and watching her intently with his beady blue eyes.

~ ~ ~

Like a deer caught in the glare of oncoming headlights it took Malon a few moments to get over her paralyzing shock and clutch her blouse to her exposed chest.

By then, it was all too late. In those glorious seconds, Ingo had received an excellent view of the beautiful young Hylian girl's body, naked from the waist up but for the lacy white brassiere enclosing her generous bosom. The sight of her creamy belly, the gentle slope of her narrow shoulders, the inviting valley of her cleavage all inflamed his lust, filling him with a burning excitement he had not felt course through his being for many years. The way Malon's cheeks flamed red with embarrassment did nothing to quell the flames of his need, nor did her stammered protests as she tried to hide herself behind her blouse. 

"M-Mr. Ingo, p-please get out!"

Instead, Ingo gave her a yellow-toothed grin and stepped inside the room, slamming the door closed so violently it made the wall rattle.

Malon took a halting step backward, her mouth hanging open, her eyes fearful. This too pleased Ingo; he had worried that she might be taken by anger and chase him out, but fear was much better. She was, as ever, in his power. He placed a hand on his hip, straightening to his full height and giving the frightened girl the most disdainful look in his arsenal. "Remember the horses, Malon," he whispered, his voice dripping with malice and threats unspoken.

She blanched at that, her rosy lower lip trembling, but her concern for the horses outweighed her fear for herself. Such a predictably good girl. "What do you want?" she croaked nervously, certain that she already knew the answer.

Ingo licked his cracked lips with a serpentine tongue, his face alight with hungry anticipation. "Take your skirt off, girl," he commanded, falling into his role as her master with practiced ease. "And get rid of that shirt, too."

Malon swallowed and looked down at herself in apprehension. She had been dreadfully right about his intentions, but she had no desire to disrobe in front of the foul man who had ruined her life and treated her as a slave. For a long moment she considered refusing him, keeping this last, desperately needed barrier between them, but the memory of his drunken thrashings of the defenseless horses, especially poor Epona, still loomed large in her mind. She had no doubt that they would suffer if she disobeyed, and she simply didn't have the heart to let that happen to them.

She lowered her gaze, letting her eyelids droop to obscure Ingo from her vision, before opening her white-knuckled hands and letting her blouse drop to the floor by her feet. Again her upper half was revealed to him, her ample breasts hidden from him only by the lace-edged fabric of her bra. Modesty urged her to shield her chest with her hands, but she knew that would only anger Ingo, so she kept them knotted in her lap, allowing him to see what he wanted to see. She needed to keep him calm, make him happy with her, allow him the control he craved.

As the lascivious ranch owner looked on, she slowly unbuckled her thick belt, lingering as long as she thought she could get away with it before Ingo intervened. As tears began to gather at the corners of her sapphire eyes she let the belt fall, slipping down her legs and taking her skirt with it.

Ingo made a choking sound as Malon's garments pooled at her feet. Her whole body was bared before him, the magnificent prize he had earned with his new-found determination to take what he was owed, and he couldn't tear his beady eyes from the sight. He admired her long, slender legs toned from years of hard labor, her broad hips, the white lace-adorned panties that hid her womanhood from his roving gaze. She was stunning in her unwillingly disrobed state, made all the more ravishing by the way her cheeks burned with shame, the lowered eyes that refused to look at him, the hands clasped in front of her that longed to cover herself from his gaze.

"I-is that all?" Malon asked, a thread of hope woven through her subdued voice. Standing before him in her underwear was agonizing enough for her; she wanted no more part of Ingo's desires.

"No, that is not all!" Ingo snapped, struggling to keep the enjoyment out of his hardened face when she cringed from his anger. "Go over and lie on the bed. And don't question me again."

Unable to stifle a crushed sob, Malon obediently shuffled across the room to her bed, her worst fears racing through her head. Was Ingo going to force himself on her? The thought filled her with sickening terror. She had been saving herself for her hero, the one she would fall in love with, the one who would someday free her from her captivity. The possibility of losing her virginity to the foul creature who had already taken from her so much made her feel ill... yet she followed his command and climbed atop her bed, her heart pounding like a jackhammer. She laid herself on her back and stared up at the ceiling, her fingers clawing into the woven sheets, her half-exposed bosom heaving with every frightened breath.

In a matter of seconds Ingo had reached her bedside, towering over her, his gaunt features twisted with malevolent glee. His visage was as terrible as any monster, bereft of pity or of the slightest remnant of humanity. His hand fumbled ominously upon the bedside table, and Malon turned her head just in time to see him snatch up her faithful yellow scarf, her beloved memento. "Leave that alone," she whispered brokenly, no iron behind her stern words.

"Lie still," was Ingo's only reply as he descended over the prone farm girl, seizing first one wrist, then the other, and lifting them above her head. Malon closed her eyes and allowed him to stretch her arms away from her body and through the ornate silver headboard, wincing as the cold metal bars brushed against her bare skin. Satisfied with her new position, Ingo coiled the scarf around Malon's left wrist, wrapping it several times before repeating the procedure with her right, finally knotting it in the middle with a dark chuckle. She had been tied securely to the bed, her hands bound together through the headboard, confined.

She pulled against her bonds, her anxiety rising, but found no give in them. Her dear scarf had betrayed her, holding her wrists captive as firmly as any rope or chain might hold a storybook damsel in distress. She could not extract her arms from the headboard, could not rise from the bed at all, only lie there and await whatever Ingo had in store for her next.

She was not required to wait long. Satisfied that Malon was unable to move from her prostrated position by herself, Ingo withdrew from her side and stooped to the floor to rummage through her discarded clothing. When he rose and returned to her bedside, it was with Malon's thick leather belt in his greasy hands, his fingers running over its gently rippled surface as he stretched it, testing its condition.

"Open wide," he ordered, leaning over his helpless prisoner once again. 

Unable to take her eyes off of the belt descending towards her face, Malon clamped her mouth shut, shaking her head in refusal. He wanted to put that in her mouth?! There was no way she was going to let him, even with her hands tied. Her deep blue eyes blazed with defiance, lips pursed tight.

But Ingo was not a man to take no for an answer. Chuckling in callous amusement at her display of futile resistance, he captured her nose between thumb and forefinger and cruelly pinched her nostrils closed. Without the use of her nose or her mouth, there was no way for her to breathe. It was only a matter of time until she would be forced to submit.

Moaning in protest as her lungs burned, Malon thrashed against the scarf binding her to the bed frame, blissfully ignorant of the way Ingo appreciated the thrashing of her lingerie-clad body in the flickering candlelight. As torturous moments passed and her strength wavered, her vision began to blur, her head growing light and dizzy. Waves of blackness danced about the edges of her sight, threatening to drag her into unconsciousness. Her chest felt as it were about to burst.

Finally she could fight her losing battle no longer. Resistance was pointless. Ingo could hold her nose for as long as he liked, and she would be powerless to stop him. Grudgingly opening her mouth, the ranch girl desperately gulped in a lungful of air, then another, appeasing her searing lungs.

Ingo didn't hesitate for a second. Seizing his chance, he forced a length of the belt between Malon's parted teeth and rammed it into the corners of her mouth, forcing her soft lips to contort around the thick, stale leather. Ignoring her cries of distressed discomfort, he wrapped it around her head once, then twice, the second layer through her mouth pulling her jaws still further together, grinding at the corners of her lips. With deft hands that still remembered farm work, he knotted the belt behind the back of Malon's head, drawing it right against her auburn hair, tugging on it to be sure it was too tight to slip off before pulling away from her with a satisfied nod.

She whimpered, her chest heaving in a way he was sure she hadn't _meant_ to be seductive.

He took a moment to savor the sight of Malon, tied helpless to her own bed, barely able to believe he had worked up the nerve to barge into her room and command her to do such things. What _else_ could he make her do, should he demand it? The possibilities whirled in his head as he watched Malon's half-naked body writhing atop her mattress, the deepest mysteries of her body barely hidden by her wispy underwear. He could go further if he willed it. Make her his. Stain her for eternity to prove his final victory over her incompetent father.

His manhood swelled at the thought. He could take her right now. Even were she not tied down, she couldn't resist him. She was his possession, and it was only thanks to his generosity that he had not yet taken advantage of _all_ she had to offer.

Yet in the end, he was still Ingo, and cowardice won out.

He could have her anytime he wanted, he told himself, lips working against yellowed teeth in a twitching dance. He had proven to himself and to Malon that his dominance over her was total as long as he controlled the ranch and the animals that lived within it. He could make her do whatever he wished as long as he held the fates of the horses and cows and cuccos in his hands, and both of them knew it. Yes, he would slowly build up to the day he defiled her, he decided. The idea appealed to his sadistic, cowardly mind as much as it disappointed his aching loins.

For tonight, this was enough.

...No. There was one last thing to do.

"Life's going to be different around here from now on." He trailed his fingers across Malon's exposed belly as he spoke. She squirmed at his spidery touch and whimpered behind her leathery gag in response, but this was the extent of her ability to resist him. "You're an adult now," he murmured, "and adults have to follow different orders to children. You are my property, as much as this house or the ranch or the horses. Remember this as you try to sleep tonight, Malon. The easy days are _over_."

With the speed of a striking serpent, his hand swept between Malon's hips, snatching the waistband of her lace-trimmed panties and tugging them down her legs in a single violent movement. 

Malon squealed in panic, frantically kicking her flailing legs at him, but her reaction came moments too late to catch him in the act. A hair from hyperventilating, she desperately clapped her bare legs together, the only thing she could do to hide her most private areas from Ingo... but to her confusion, Ingo didn't seem as interested in her nudity as she had thought he would be.

Instead, he pressed her panties to his face and inhaled deeply, letting out a quivering moan of pleasure as the scent of her filled his nostrils.

Malon cringed in disgust, but Ingo merely leered at her as he stuffed the lacy undergarment in his pocket, hidden away from some future use she didn't even want to think about..

"Good night, Malon." His tone was disturbingly jovial as he headed for the door, stopping only to extinguish the shining dance of the candle on her dresser before departing, closing the door behind him. 

Left to her despondent thoughts, Malon sagged against the bed, tears stinging her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Life on the Lon Lon Ranch had changed forever that night. The unspoken secret that had lurked below the surface of their every interaction for years had now come into the open.

Ingo desired Malon, the girl he had held as a captive for seven long years, and now he was prepared to act on those desires.

Yet even knowing this dreadful truth, Malon could not leave the ranch and abandon the horses to Ingo's cruelty. He held total power over her as long as the fates of the animals were in his grasp, and she knew that they would suffer on his whims. If she defied him, their blood would be on her hands, and she simply could not turn her back on the beautiful creatures she had grown up alongside. Even if she did... she had nowhere to go, and no idea where to start looking for her father in the fearsome desolation Hyrule had become.

She had no choice. She had to remain at the Ranch and let him treat her as he wished if she wanted the horses to be safe, no matter what he did to her. One day, her fairytale hero would come to rescue her.

He had to.

~ ~ ~

That night, she retreated to her bedroom as she always had and closed the door behind her, but this time her isolation brought her no comfort.

Her room was a sanctuary no longer. She was no safer from Info here than she was anywhere else on the ranch. He could get to her anywhere, and do anything, and that thought was never completely out of her mind even if she went for the entire day without seeing him.

She kept her back to the bedroom window as she undressed herself, a new addition to her nightly routine. This time the shutters were left wide open, one of Ingo's new rules, and she preferred not to know if he was out there tonight, watching her. 

He had seen plenty of her already, of course. If he had not taken his fill of her barely-clothed body on the night he first made his move, he certainly had when he had returned in the morning to untie her from her bed, but that hardly made undressing for an audience seem palatable to the farm girl. Ingo was a foul reptile of a man, and the thought of him ogling her made her skin crawl and her belly plunge into a bottomless void.

Her clothing swiftly shed, Malon moved out of view of the window and to her dresser, pausing to look at her haggard reflection for a moment. Crescents of darkness hung below her sapphire eyes, testament to the sleepless nights and worry-fraught days she had endured since Ingo had made his desires known. She felt it on the inside too; the constant malevolent tugging in the back of her head that reminded her of her situation, and it was tiring her. The stress grew with every day he went without making a second move on her.

Sighing to herself, she pulled open the bottom drawer of her dresser in search of a clean nightdress. She found it quickly enough, folded neatly and right where it was meant to be... but she froze as her attention was caught by the large gap in the contents of the drawer. 

Her panties were missing. All of them.

In their place, a note roughly scrawled in barely legible handwriting. _New rule. No underwear_.

She stared at the tiny piece of paper in horror, the color draining from her face, cold dread seizing her heart. A tentative peek into the next drawer up revealed that yes, he had taken all of her bras as well. Swallowing hard, she closed the drawers, hastily pulling her nightdress over her head to cover her nakedness. It was horrid enough to think of him hoarding all of her underwear somewhere, but did he really expect her to stop wearing underclothes altogether? Her stomach turned at the thought of merely a single layer of clothing between her and the world at all times. Between her and him.

It was too much. She needed to take her mind off of Ingo and his perversions, or she was going to crack.

Peering cautiously out of the window to make sure the coast was clear, Malon lowered herself over the sill and climbed down towards the rolling grass outside. It was chilly in just her nightgown, but the feeling of sudden freedom was worth it. Taking a deep breath of the cold night air, she crept across the farm toward the central field on bare feet soon coated in dew, ever alert to movement in the dark. Even now, she had one way left to improve her melancholy mood, a way Ingo didn't know about. A way that was hers and hers alone.

~ ~ ~

Tangled in his twisted sheets, his grunting snores echoing throughout his room, Ingo thrashed about in bed as if he were suffering through a terrible nightmare. His arms flailed and grasped at the covers, his fingers curled into claws. His legs kicked and squirmed, only serving to entangle him all the more with his bedding. This troubled sleep was nothing new for Ingo.

Until the greedy ranch owner's skull cracked against the headboard of his bed.

Pain flared through his head, awakening him in a flash. His eyes creaked open, and he wiped at them with a hair-strewn hand to clear his blurred vision as he groaned from the unexpected blow. 

That was when he heard it. A woman's voice, floating into the room through his half-closed window. Gentle, melodic, repeating the same pattern over and over. 

Someone was singing.

There was no doubt in Ingo's mind as to who that might be. That song was a horridly familiar one to him; it was the tune that Talon's wife had sung to the horses when she was still alive, years before Ganondorf's rise to power. It sickened him then, and it sickened him now. It made no difference whether it came from the mouth of mother or daughter. It was an abomination.

For a long moment Ingo thought about going out there and silencing her himself. Or perhaps he could wait for her in her room to teach her a lesson she would not forget. 

Yet in the end, he did neither of those things. He had decided before that he would take it slowly with Malon, close his fist around her one finger at a time. Rushing it was no fun. She was a fly trapped in his web. He could take as long as he wished to break her...

Rubbing at his stinging scalp, he rose from his bed and left his room, creeping down the hall to Malon's. Her radiant voice drifted here too, and through the open window he could see her standing out in the field, her auburn hair blowing in the breeze in tandem with her nightdress as she sang to herself and the silent world. She sounded contented. Peaceful.

That would not do. His upper lip shaking in disgust, Ingo stooped to pick up the girl's discarded brassiere and panties from the floor, the one set of underwear he had been unable to steal from her room before. He wanted Malon feeling vulnerable at every moment, bereft of the protection of her underclothes... and he wanted her to know that he had been here tonight. That he had not stopped her, but he could have.

That he knew.

~ ~ ~

Malon's nervousness was evident from the moment Ingo came down for his breakfast. She would not look at him when they spoke, preferring to avert her gaze anywhere else in the kitchen, but she glanced at him frequently when she thought he couldn't see her. Ingo gloated to himself, pleased that he had rattled her so with his silent message, but said nothing of it to her directly, happy to let her stew in worry. He could not resist asking mildly if she was more comfortable this morning without the bother of putting on her underwear; her only response was a red-cheeked glare of anger and mortification. Perfect.

Later that day, a messenger arrived at the ranch from the ruin that had once been called Hyrule Castle, clad all in black. Ingo recognized the man, for he frequently journeyed to the ranch for an update on the raising of the horses on behalf of the new King. Ganondorf was expecting a great warhorse from him any month now, and Ingo had every intention of giving him Epona, the best in the stable. It was the icing on the cake that this was the horse Malon loved most of all, and taking the steed away from her would be a delight he would savor.

As it happened, while they were engaged in conversation at the gates Malon passed by, leaving the barn and trudging towards the house. She glanced up at Ingo for a moment, curious, but when she saw him looking back at her she swiftly lowered her gaze to the ground and kept on walking. As she disappeared inside the house, the messenger raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know you played host to such an alluring woman, Mr. Ingo."

Ingo smirked, tugging at his mustache. "Malon belongs to me. I'm teaching the stupid little cow her place, but she's a slow learner. May have spared the rod too long, if you know what I mean."

A nod and a wicked grin from the messenger. "Oh yes, I understand. Glad to hear you are keeping her under control. But about the horses..."

~ ~ ~

The rest of the day passed without notable event. For the most part Ingo left Malon alone, only speaking to her when required to give her new instructions. It felt grand to see Talon's daughter scurrying to fulfill her orders like the miserable servant girl she was, desperate to please him to avoid his wrath and protect her equine friends. Knowing that she was completely at his mercy brought him deep pleasure on its own, without even needing to take further advantage of her.

The next day, however, the messenger was back. This brought immediate concern to Ingo's twisted heart; it was uncommon for him to check in more than every few months, as Ganondorf trusted him to run the ranch as he willed. Yet this time the messenger made no inquiries, simply presenting Ingo with a heavy wooden chest. A goodwill gift from Ganondorf, he said with a wink, in appreciation for all of his hard work at the ranch and in the hopes that their fruitful relationship would continue.

After the messenger was gone, a very surprised Ingo carried the chest into his bedroom, closed and locked the door, and prised opened the lid. What he found inside made his eyes widen and brought a grotesque smile of delight to his lips.


	4. Chapter 4

The sun had fallen beyond the craggy horizon, bringing another day on the ranch to a close, and after what seemed like days of hard labor under Ingo's watchful eye, Malon sighed in relief as her master granted permission to return to her room and rest her aching body.

She would sing again tonight. It was the only thing that made her feel like herself anymore, like the cheerful old Malon rather than the browbeaten servant girl who posed naked for loathsome perverts. Singing was the only thing that lifted her spirits and brought her hope, and even the knowledge that Ingo had found out about her nighttime absences barely gave her pause.

She would not allow him to steal this from her as well. It was all she had.

She waited for an hour after Ingo's bedroom door closed for the night, just to be safe, before she climbed out of her window and crept across the grass toward the central field once more. Her white nightdress and whiter skin caught and held the moonlight, painting her a flame-haired ghost to any who watched her secret journey through the dark.

Ingo observed through the shutters of his room, and smiled.

~ ~ ~

Her melodic voice rang through the air, catching on the wind, echoing in the silence of the night.

In the serenity of the fields, there was nothing but Malon and the starry skies above. Such solitude seemed a gift from heaven for the beautiful young woman, a chance to forget all of her worries and the things she had been made to do and lose herself in the lonely night. She couldn't escape the ranch that had become her prison, but just for a little while she could pretend out here in the darkness, nobody to disturb her as she sang her weary heart out and prayed that somehow, a hero would hear her and come running.

The only man who heard her was no hero.

He was waiting for her outside her window when she returned to the house, his arms crossed over his chest, a cold smile upon his plump lips. Ingo was glowering at Malon with a repellant mixture of anger and lust, yet she knew she had no choice but to approach him and most likely, take her punishment. She did, head lowered, one whisper of a breeze away from recoiling with a scream. "G-good evening, Mr. Ingo," she whispered, clasping her white-knuckled hands together in her lap. The chill that ran down her spine was not merely from the cold.

"I heard your singing, girl." Ingo's smile disappeared in an instant, his yellowed teeth bared in a snarl of pure disgust. "Did I grant you permission to come out here and sing that despicable song, Malon? To disturb my rest with your selfish warbling? Did I!?"

Malon shook her head in silence, fearfully biting her lip. 

Ingo pressed onward without mercy, his every word a crushing blow to Malon's already waning spirit. "I forbid you to ever sing that song again," he snapped, spittle flying from the corners of his mouth, dusting the silk of his undeservedly fine clothing. "Such an offense demands punishment, severe punishment. And yet..."

A pause, and the smile returned, more savage than before. "And yet, I find myself indecisive. Perhaps you can help me with my quandary, dear Malon. Should I punish you for your transgression?" A lifted eyebrow. "...Or should I punish Epona instead? What do _you_ think?"

"Me," Malon mumbled instantly, her voice threatening to crack. There was no hesitation, for there was no real choice to be made, but that didn't stop her from being afraid. From begging the goddess for this all to be a dream.

"I'm sorry. I didn't quite catch that." Ingo leaned in close, his malevolent grin yet wider, his foul breath almost choking her with its stench. Beady eyes watched her, gleaming with cruel delight. " _Who_ is it you wanted me to punish? Epona?"

"Me! Punish _me_! Leave Epona alone!" This time her voice really did break as she shouted her answer at him, fists clenched at her sides. Her sapphire eyes shone with feigned resolve, but within she was quaking in terror. Ingo's punishments had been bad enough _before_ the night he had forced her to undress for him; possessions ruined, meals withheld, an occasional slap when she moved too slowly. Now it was if a wall between them had been torn down, and she was slowly learning just what he was truly capable of. What he really wanted.

"I thought you might say that." Ingo's smirk was sickeningly smug as he jerked his head toward the barn. "We're going in there. Get moving, quickly now. Got a surprise for you."

A surprise? In the barn? Malon swallowed heavily, uncomprehending, but she didn't hesitate to obey, trudging across the grass towards the barn and pulling the side door open. Immediately, as always, she was assailed by the scent of a dozen cows and horses all clustered together in one place, the smell of hay and hair and manure. It was a familiar smell to her, even a welcome one, but tonight it filled her with dread. Tonight was not about the familiar.

She stepped inside, the cold dirt floor unpleasantly moist against her bare feet, trying to make as little sound as possible. Ingo, of course, had no such reservations, slamming the door shut behind them so carelessly that it was a miracle none of the animals woke up, trudging across to a small wooden chest nestled in the corner of the building. Malon squinted, trying to catch a glimpse over Ingo's shoulder. That box had certainly not been in the barn this morning. Was this her... surprise?

The answer would be denied her a little longer as Ingo looked over his shoulder at her, as if a jealous thief guarding his hoard. "Turn around, girl," he ordered, scowling through his mustache. "No peeking. And put your hands behind your back."

Again, Malon reluctantly did as she was told, turning away from the ogre and his box and anxiously clasping her hands in the small of her back, deathly afraid that she knew what was coming next. Why would he want her hands behind her back? There was only one reason Malon could think of... and the first kiss of woven rope against her skin, grazing roughly against her wrists, told her that she had been correct. He was tying her up, crossing her wrists over and binding them together, but she didn't dare resist him, closing her eyes and steeling herself as the tension yanked her shoulders back, pulling the bodice of her nightgown taut across her breasts.

It was uncomfortable to be sure, but it was not being tied up that frightened her. She had often wondered what it would be like to be one of her storybook heroines held captive by the villain, waiting for the hero to come and rescue her. It was what Ingo might do to her while she was helpless that worried her; he wasn't like the villains in the stories, content to chain her up in the dungeon for the hero to find. He was real. Evil. Cruel. Lustful.

She was no heroine, she knew. She was just a naive farm girl at the mercy of a spiteful man, trapped on a ranch in the middle of nowhere. No hero was going to come and rescue her from her plight. She was on her own, as she had always been since Talon left, and she was going to have to look after herself... even if that meant letting Ingo abuse her.

Before she knew it he had finished securing her hands behind her, but no sooner was he done than did he start work on binding her ankles together as well, dropping to his knees to push them close and tie them while she stood there, testing the ropes pinning her wrists. She had hoped to find a weakness in the knots, but the scratchy ropes were simply too tightly tied to wriggle out of, knotted by hands that hadn't forgotten their work in seven years idle. 

Not that it would do her any good to escape. If she evaded her punishment, Ingo would just make it worse next time... or take it out on poor Epona.

When he had finished, binding her ankles together as securely as her wrists, he left Malon standing awkwardly in the middle of the barn and returned to his chest to retrieve his prize. The gift from Ganondorf awaited, a tool for a loyal subject with a woman to train, and Ingo chuckled as he lifted it out of the box, holding it out for Malon to see.

The very sight of the device made Malon feel ill with dread. It was a sparse metal framework, about the size and shape of her head, and she was horribly certain that this was no coincidence. It resembled a dome-shaped cage more than anything, a crude lattice of thin metal straps, some of them hinged to allow the device to open and close, she supposed. At the front, the descending strap that would pass across the unlucky wearer's face was split into two before reaching the device's base, providing a small triangular gap through which their nose could protrude. Worst of all, a two-inch metal tongue extended from the inside of the base, clearly destined for the wearer's mouth.

Malon was no fool. She had never seen a terrible contraption like this before, but she knew exactly what it was for, and her stomach twisted itself in knots at the thought. It took all of her willpower not to beg him to punish Epona in her place after all. "Mr. Ingo, you don't need to do this," she pleaded, working her wrists against the ropes in desperation, ignoring the chafing against her skin. She had endured worse. "I've learned my lesson. I... I promise I'll be good. I promise. I won't... I won't ever sing that song again, I swear it. Just... just don't put that _thing_ on me-"

"Down on your knees," Ingo cut her off with a snarl, his patience with his servant expired. He waited until Malon was kneeling, staring up at him with tears in her eyes and cold dirt soiling the skirt of her gown, before he continued. "One more choice for you, Malon dear. You can either have the scold's bridle in your mouth..." He dangled Ganondorf's torture device in front of her. 

"Or... you can have this." His hand wandered downward to clutch his manhood through his silken pantaloons, squeezing himself as his eyes dwelt on Malon's chest. "Which will it be? Choose wisely."

Her cheeks flushing in shame, Malon choked on her next words, averting her eyes from Ingo's crotch even if it meant she was forced to stare at the bridle instead. "The metal thing. I'll... I'll do it. I'll let you... just please don't..."

"So predictable, little Malon." There was a note of sick amusement in Ingo's voice as he gripped the bridle in both hands and began to lower it, ominously opened, towards her flame-haired head. "Of course, one day you will service me as I please and you'll be glad to do it, but I am in no rush. Open your mouth."

There was no option but to obey. There never was. Malon grudgingly opened her mouth and closed her eyes tight as the frame was lowered across her beautiful face, her delicate nose slipping through the triangular gap in the front as the inner protrusion was thrust between her lips. Iron scraped jarringly against her teeth as the heavy metal tongue pressed down on her own, pinning it into her lower jaw and holding it immobile beneath its weight, flat hardness pressing against her lips as the muzzle was slipped into place.

Malon groaned, trying in vain to form words against the foreign pressure against her tongue, but Ingo ignored her incoherent murmurs, swinging the cage closed around her head with a clunk and slipping a padlock through the catch at the nape of her neck. The click of a turning key resounded through the barn, a dreadful confirmation of her fate. She was locked into the device.

Ingo's clammy hands withdrew as he stood, and without him there to hold it up, Malon was forced to take the entire weight of the scold's bridle herself. It was heavier than she had known at first, the top of the device pressing mercilessly against her scalp, forcing her to bow her head just to bear the strain of it. Her teeth were already beginning to ache from the pressure of the iron tongue resting upon them, her own tongue trapped beneath, and she knew that the discomfort was only going to get worse. He hadn't locked her into this _thing_ with the intention of releasing her from it so soon.

"How are you enjoying the bridle, my dear?" Fully aware that he would receive no coherent answer, Ingo gloated from above, running a hand through fiery red hair mussed by the bars of the tight new cage. "Perhaps you will think twice before next you sing your sweet little songs. Defying me will only bring you pain in the end." 

He pushed down on her shoulders, lowering her to the floor, and slipped his arms around her body, lifting her in his arms as a groom might carry his blushing bride... or a hero his damsel in distress.

She was certainly in distress, Malon thought bitterly as roaming fingers dug into her breast through her nightdress, but Ingo was hardly her hero.

He carried her across the barn like a sack of oats, passing the slumbering cows and horses, the boxes of feed and bales of hay, finally coming to a halt in front of the very last stall. It was the only one that contained no animal at all, but Malon was very familiar with it nonetheless. It had belonged to the cow Ingo had sold last week to one of the dark king's servants, a vile, smelly thing that had survived this long on her peerless ability to produce a near-endless flow of milk.

That hadn't been the only thing she had produced endless amounts of. The overpowering reek of manure invaded Malon's nostrils as Ingo kicked the door open, threatening to make her vomit into her iron bridle. She had been avoiding cleaning this stall for ages, warned away by the oppressive stench of leavings, hoping that Ingo would not notice her negligence... but it appeared that he _had_ noticed, and that she was about to regret it.

"This is where you'll be spending the night, sweet Malon," Ingo purred as he lowered her to the floor inside the stall, rolling her onto her belly before standing up and reaching for the door. "With the rest of the shit."

And that was how he abandoned her for the night, shutting the stall door on her, leaving her to lie in substances she didn't even want to _think_ about as he headed back to his warm house and comfortable bed. With her hands tied behind her back and her ankles bound together, hobbling her, rising to her feet would have been difficult even without the horrid muck beneath her body, vile and reeking and too disgustingly soggy to find purchase on. It stained her gown and clung to her skin and her hair, and the more she tried to dislodge it the more of it rubbed against her, fouling her auburn tresses and tanned skin. The weight of the bridle kept her head down in it, the muzzle forcing her to breathe through her nose, leaving her no choice but to take in the stink of shit with her precious oxygen, bringing stinging tears to her eyes. Praying for a miracle.

For a hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the strongest of chapters, but while I was happy to change the wording of a lot of it, I didn't want to change the actual direction of the story. I think I write better now, though.


	5. Chapter 5

A hundred droplets of water scattered as the flame-haired girl rose from the bathtub, her nude body glistening with beads of moisture in the flickering candlelight. She shivered as warm flesh met cold air, the movement shaking gentle rivulets loose from sodden tresses and letting them cascade down her gleaming skin. She had rid herself of the grime of her night in the barn, of dirt and straw and the smell of shit, but she would never be entirely clean. Not now.

She reached for the comfort of her towel, eager to wrap herself in its soft warmth, but Ingo's sweaty hand was already there, snatching it out of her reach and tucking it behind his back. "Not yet, Malon."

Her cheeks flaming in mortification, her fists clenched at her sides, Malon swallowed her revulsion and did the only thing she _could_ do. What she knew he wanted from her. She stood in place, still bare, dripping bathwater onto the hardwood floor, enduring the cold and the embarrassment and her master's hungry stare as it roamed across her naked form from her slender legs to her shapely hips to the moist ginger curls between her thighs. Her body held no more mysteries for him, no more secrets, every facet of her on show for the amusement of her owner.

He _did_ own her. That fact was undeniable now. With the fate of the horses at stake, Malon could not disobey Ingo, no matter _what_ he made her do. Her conscience would not permit her to refuse him, and both of them knew it. She had allowed him to see her naked, to tie her up, to force that horrid bridle upon her and leave her in a stable clogged with filth, and if she had let him go that far, what _wouldn't_ she do?

Both of them knew that, too, and the implication hung in the air every second of every day.

She cringed as Ingo's greedy eyes fixed on her gently heaving breasts, acutely aware of the way her nipples had hardened in the freezing air, longing to cross her arms and hide them from his sight. She couldn't, of course. Modesty was a luxury she had long since surrendered, and she wondered if it even mattered any more. He had seen everything there was to see, from that very first night he had ordered her to strip for him.

Still, the urge to cover herself remained as strong as it had ever been. She would _never_ be comfortable with this, even if he saw her naked every day for the rest of her life.

He stepped closer to her, his breathing heavy as he inspected her chest, and she looked away, wishing that she could run. He cupped her breast in a calloused palm, lifting it, running his thumb across her soft, warm skin with a rare gentleness, smirking at the way Malon closed her eyes and shuddered at his touch. Was it desire that made her breath catch in her throat, or disgust? Perhaps it was both, but Ingo was not yet satisfied, seizing her protruding nipple and twisting savagely. "Look at me," he hissed as he captured her chin in his free hand, jerking her face back to meet his. The terrible pain in her breast did not ease until she opened her eyes once more, bitter tears flowing down her cheeks as she forced herself to gaze upon her tormentor's bristly, leathery face.

Still not satisfied. "Kiss me," Ingo commanded.

Malon flinched anew, but this time she caught herself before she could look away. She had known that it would come to this eventually, but that didn't mean she was ready for it.

In her nightmares it had been him to kiss her, his mouth fiercely clamping over hers as he seized her wrists in his hands, but somehow it felt even worse to be the one to instigate the embrace, even under duress. As if she were betraying herself. Still, as ever, there was no choice available to her, and she reluctantly leaned forward, touching her warm, soft lips against cold roughness.

Nothing had ever felt so wrong. She had known Ingo since she was five, he had been the closest she had to a father after Talon was exiled from the ranch, yet now she could smell only him, taste only him as his lips pushed against hers, his tongue slithering between her teeth and tangling with her own. He captured her naked form in his arms, lingering dampness seeping into his clothes as he pressed her body against his own. His prickly mustache scratched against Malon's face as he deepened their kiss, exploring her sweet mouth with his vile tongue, coaxing a reluctant moan from her unwilling throat as he plundered her.

It was abhorrent, perverse, but she didn't resist him, couldn't have now even if she betrayed the animals and fought. His arms pinned hers to her sides, holding her close against him, her breasts squashing against his chest as he clutched her, a menacing bulge in his pants rubbing against her bare thighs, threatening her with worse.

After what seemed like an eternity, he ended their kiss and withdrew from her mouth with a watery smack, his eyes staring into Malon's as he licked his lips clean. He thrust her away from him with a haughty sneer, watching her stumble and fall onto her naked rear without so much as blinking. Discarding her like a used tissue.

She glared up at him through tearful eyes, feeling more violated than ever. Her mouth was filled with the sour taste of him but she dared not spit it out, not while he was watching. Broken, she let herself fall backwards to the floor, shame and disgust washing over her as the floorboards pressed into her back and her buttocks. She stifled a sob, hands clutching at her face, blocking him out. This couldn't go on. She couldn't keep doing this, not even for the horses...

Ingo reveled in the sight, a hand lazily stroking at himself through his pants.

This was where he had planned to end this game for tonight , intending to send Malon to bed to dwell on the day's torment, but this time the fires of his lust had grown too strong to douse so easily. He had done it to himself, he knew, but her breasts, her hips, her mouth... the sensation of all of these things pressed against his body had been engraved into him, and he wanted more of her. He wanted it _now_.

"It's about time you were broken in," he whispered, loomed over the fallen farm girl, his hands descending to the buckle of his leather belt. "Spread your legs now, there's a good girl..."

Malon froze. Panic clutched her heart, and in that moment, all else disappeared from her mind.

"No."

Eyes widened, then narrowed into slivers. "What did you say?"

"N-no. I said _no_." Malon climbed to her feet, fear and cold conspiring to make her unclothed body quake, swallowing hard and looking him in the eye of her own will for the first time in a very long while. "I won't do it. I won't let you hurt me anymore." She was dripping, freezing in the night air, bur she didn't care. "I won't let you touch the horses. Any of them. You're... you're evil. You're not half the man my father is."

Euphoria surged through her as she defiantly crossed her arms over her bare breasts. She could barely believe that she had found the courage to say the words she had kept inside of herself for years on end, but it felt good. Wonderful. Her pride had been trampled, ruined and shattered by her life of slavery under Ingo's thumb, but it had not died. The only thing that felt better than standing up for herself was seeing the look of utter shock on the face of her supposed master.

Unfortunately, the shock did not last long before it morphed into rage the likes of which Malon had never seen. 

Crimson-faced, Ingo stepped forward with clenched teeth, batted aside her hastily-raised forearms and slapped her across her face with the back of his hand, sending her reeling backward with a stricken yelp of pain. "You little _bitch._ "

Her ears ringing, her cheek burning, Malon lifted her head and faced Ingo anew, life in her brigh blue eyes for the first time in years. She tasted blood in her mouth, but as she righted herself, ignoring her nudity and balling her hands, she harbored no regrets.

If only she knew what her next move should be. As good as it had felt, her sudden bravery hadn't changed her situation. Ingo still stood between Malon and the only exit, and he was still much stronger than her, not to mention that she was nude and all but defenseless. If he was intent on stealing her virginity this night, there was still little that she could do to stop him, bravado or not. Her heart pounded, adrenaline surging through her body like electricity. Her choices were painfully limited. Fight, or be raped.

Ingo moved, as she had known he would, but not in the way she had expected. He darted to the side, evading her clumsy swing, weaving in and snaring a handful of damp red hair in his calloused fingers, yanking hard on the glimmering strands and jerking her head to the side. Pain bit through her scalp as he wrested her towards him, hauling her by her tawny locks, his feet carrying the both of them towards the bathroom door. He was stronger than she knew, even after years of idleness, his desire for her blotted out by a red haze of anger.

"We are going to the barn," he snarled as he tore the door almost off its hinges, pulling the struggling farm girl out into the hallway on her bare, wet feet. She followed him with faltering steps, powerless to fight him, aware that if she did not keep up on her own she would surely be dragged across the rough wooden floor. "I am going to get my axe," Ingo confided as they neared the descending stairs, "and I am going to show Epona what happens when girls _do not behave_. I think I'll nail her head to the wall in your bedroom. Would you like that?"

He halted on the landing for a moment, letting Malon sink to the floor without releasing his grip on her hair. Her defiance was gone - _what had she been thinking?!_ \- replaced by dread, primal fear for herself, for Epona, for all of the animals on the ranch. Tears stung her eyes, words falling from her lips in clumps, bereft of meaning. She had to save them. She was a fool, she _had_ to do what he wanted, kiss him, lie with him, _anything_ -

Heavy iron crashed upon wood, the metallic noise resounding throughout the house. Three times.

"The door." Ingo's fingers withdrew from Malon's locks, letting her sag to the floor as he chewed furtively on his lower lip. Thinking quickly, weighing up his options. "Damn. Damn damn damn, it could be the King's man! It could be... up, Malon!" He moved in a blur, taking the steps two at a time as he raced towards the entrance on the lower floor. "Get dressed and get down here at once! You know what will happen if you don't!"

Pain stabbed through her tormented scalp, burned through her beaten cheek, throbbed in her twisted nipple, but once again Malon climbed to her feet, ignoring it all. It hurt, but it would be worse for her if she didn't obey his latest command, and far far worse for Epona. She had tried to defy Ingo, and she had failed. Her last chance was gone. She was broken, soiled and alone.

No hero was coming to save her. Her life was Ingo and beatings and complete, unrelenting servitude in all ways a woman could serve a man. It had been foolish to ever dream otherwise.

~ ~ ~

Releasing the ornate iron doorknocker, the lad waited for an answer to come from within the familiar farmhouse. The hour was late, but morning was too far away to delay any longer. Wiping his sweaty hands upon his green traveling clothes, the blond boy wondered if much had changed on the ranch in the seven long years he had slept...


	6. Chapter 6

Malon watched from afar as Ingo spoke to the boy in green. He had come to purchase a horse from the ranch, and Ingo had leaped upon the business opportunity without hesitation. Immediately, forgetting all about Malon and what he had meant to do to her, he led the young adventurer across the ranch to the fields and showed him one horse after another, the price rising with the quality of the creature as they worked up the list from the least promising to the most.

Each time, however, the lad was unsatisfied. He had the rupees to pay for the best, he insisted, and it was the best he required. Finally, there was only horse left to examine.

To her surprise, there was an immediate connection between Epona and the adventurer, the likes of which Malon had never seen before. It had taken even her a very long time to earn the trust from the mare that the stranger claimed received within seconds; it was almost as if man and steed had known each other for years, not merely moments. It took little time for the boy to make up his mind, reaching for his wallet and asking Ingo to name his price.

Yet Ingo refused to sell. Epona was special, he snapped as he attempted to guide the lad back toward one of the other steeds. Intended for a certain influential customer, and nobody else. The traveler named a significant sum in precious rupees, then doubled it, but nothing he said could budge the stable owner from his recalcitrance. The boy would have to accept another horse, or none.

There was nothing more to say. The green-clad stranger bid Ingo a saddened farewell and made for the entrance of the ranch, his head lowered in disappointment. It seemed that his heart had been truly set on Epona, and no other horse would do.

When he reached the gates, Malon was waiting for him.

~ ~ ~

Something about the stranger's presence was oddly comforting.

It didn't hurt that he was handsome, nor that he was athletic and muscular, but the splendid sword and magnificent shield strapped to the boy's back painted him as more than just an ordinary wanderer. Everything about him seemed to scream that he was good, trustworthy, _special_ , nothing she could pin down yet a sense she could not dismiss.

He gave his name as Link, and realization struck.

This was not the first time they had met, after all. No, that had been seven years ago, when they were but children and the ranch was still owned by her father, before the dark days that had seen Ingo take control. Long-neglected memories began to flood back into Malon's mind as she compared memory and man, merging her perception of one with the other. She remembered the fairy boy who had visited the ranch back then, remembered teaching him her song, remembered him replicating the tune on his ocarina. Epona had immediately taken a liking to him back then, and it seemed that time had not dulled the mare's memories, even if Malon herself had forgotten.

She barely knew him, hadn't seen him for years on end... and yet she told him everything. There was nobody else to tell, and Malon had nothing more to lose.

By the time the last of her sordid story had been recounted, she was in tears and in his arms. The emotions she had held back through an adolescence of servitude and solitude burst forth all at once; for the longest time there had been no-one to share her feelings with but foul Ingo and mute horses, no-one to share her pain, no-one to help her. Now, as Link listened and held her and stroked her hair, it felt as if a weight the size of Hyrule Castle had left her slender shoulders. There was someone who cared.

He dried her tears with his sleeve and waited until her sobs had stilled before he released her from his embrace and cast his eyes back toward the ranch. From a distance it appeared to be a completely innocent farmstead, but for his troubled friend it had been a torturous prison. For Malon their last meeting had been seven long years ago, but for Link only a few days had passed. He remembered the cheerful girl she had once been, and seeing her so changed by the years, just like the rest of the devastated land, awakened a deeper resolve within him.

He would make things right. He would punish Ingo for all he had done and return the ranch to its rightful owners, one more step in the fight against the dark overlord who pulled Hyrule's strings.

~ ~ ~

Returning to the farmstead proper with Link at her side, Malon headed straight to the fields in search of Ingo. She was no longer alone, and this truth gave her the courage to confront her tormentor face to face once again. This time she would not be bullied into backing down.

Yet there was no immediate sign of Ingo to be found. The fields were quiet, populated only by the horses milling around in their corral and the cuccos wandering about, fluffing their feathers and pecking at the earth. Where could he have gone? There were few options; the barn, the old shed on the far side of the ranch... or the house they shared.

It seemed that Link had come to the same conclusion, for he approached the front door of the dwelling with his hand on the hilt of his sword. Malon moved to join him, determined to face down Ingo in person, but Link shook his head and bade her wait outside in safety. When he found Ingo, he would bring the wretch out to her after the two of them had had a little 'talk'.

It wasn't until the young swordsman had ventured inside and the door had creaked shut that Malon realized her entire body was shaking. It wasn't from fear this time, nor cold, but an all-consuming wave of nervous excitement. The reality of the situation was only just beginning to sink in. An end to her suffering was finally at hand. The nightmare was over!

So taken was she by the euphoria of impeding freedom that she failed to hear the groaning of the barn door's hinges, nor did she notice the approaching sounds of grass crushed beneath leather soles. One moment she was staring at the upper floors of the house, hoping for a glimpse of Ingo through one of the open windows...

_Crack._

The next Malon was collapsing, her body limp, the sudden pain driving itself through her skull quickly giving way to numbing cold as her vision blurred and darkened. By the time she hit the ground she had lost consciousness, knocked senseless by a blow she never saw.

Spitting into the grass by Malon's expressionless face, Ingo lowered the plank that had been his makeshift bludgeon, dropping it to the ground and crouching to scoop the helpless girlinto his arms. Fortune had smiled on him after all. Finally, he had twigged as to the identity of the boy who had seemed only to want to buy a horse; his master had sent word of the boy in green who sought to undo all that the dark king had wrought, the boy who played at being a hero. It might have taken him a while to realize it, but surely if Ingo could take him out of the picture, Ganondorf would show his gratitude in return.

Opportunity had fallen into Ingo's lap, he gloated as he held the senseless form of Malon in his arms, wrapping a hand around a soft breast and squeezing, and he would take full advantage of it.


	7. Chapter 7

The shock of freezing water crashing against her face brought Malon back to the world of the waking with a spluttering gasp.

Muddled from her slumber, pain throbbing through her skull, she was still completely unsurprised to see Ingo standing over her with a bucket, that horrid grin on his twisted face as he locked eyes with the bedraggled servant girl. It could be nobody else. It was always him, in reality and in her nightmares. Water trickling into her eyes, dripping from the tip of her nose, she squinted and tried to wipe herself dry...

Only to feel rope biting into her wrists, keeping them pinned behind her back.

She let out a groan that was half pain and half frustration, sagging to the newly muddied floor as she tried to work them free and found them securely tied, wrists crossed over to keep her fingers from the knots. She was helpless, again, and it took only a cursory kick of her legs to find that her ankles were bound as well, more coarse rope sawing against her skin through her dirt-caked socks. Her boots were gone, her scarf as well, her skirt hiked halfway up her legs, her lack of panties leaving her even more uncomfortably vulnerable to... whatever he wanted.

At least there was no sign of the cruel metal bridle this time. She couldn't move, but she could speak.

"What are you going to do to me?" she croaked through her headache, trying to piece together her memories of what had gone before. Slowly but surely they began to return, recompiling themselves in her head. Of course; Link had come, but Ingo had gone missing and then they'd...

"I haven't decided yet." Ingo shrugged, seemingly uncaring, kneeling beside her and slipping a hand beneath her skirt. His slimy fingers stroked her thigh, his fingers flirting dangerously with the folds between her legs, just a grazing touch, but enough to make Malon whimper. "Once you've served your purpose and allowed me to get rid of your new friend, I won't be lacking for servants about the ranch. I am sure Lord Ganondorf will ensure his most faithful vassal wants for nothing." His rubbing grew more insistent as his hand slid to her rump, sending shivers of disgust through Malon's body. "I won't need you anymore, Malon. Maybe I'll kill you for your betrayal... or I might decide you can serve me in other ways. Surely you are used to playing the whore by now."

"I never wanted you," Malon said bitterly, her sapphire eyes distant. He hadn't ravished her, not once over her seven years of hell, but it felt as if he had done so a hundred times over. The stain of his violations would never leave her soul.

Ingo's lump-ridden lips curved upward. "I know, little Malon. That was what made it so enjoyable." He gave her thigh a final sickening squeeze before his hand withdrew, sliding down her knee and her calf before slipping into the pocket of his pantaloons. "Now, it's time for you to shut up. The boy must have realized the house is empty by now, and I won't have you interfering."

His hand emerged, clutching a balled-up handkerchief filthy with stains, and there was nothing Malon could do to stop him from stuffing it into her mouth, poking it between her lips and watching her gag on the sour, gritty taste. One hand held it inside, pressed tight over her face while the other stretched across the floor, grasped her scarf from where he had thrown it and forced it between the farm girl's teeth, wrapping it around her head to hold the stuffing in and viciously knotting it against her auburn locks at the nape of her neck. Her yelp of pain was muffled by the layers of cloth, just as intended, leaving her powerless once again as Ingo patted her head and stood, casting his eyes toward the door.

She was at his mercy, but her hero was coming.

~ ~ ~

"Malon? Where are you?"

Link's forehead creased in worry as he stepped outside of the ranch house, casting his gaze in all directions. He had asked the beautiful farm girl to remain on this spot while he searched the home for Ingo, hoping to keep her safe, yet now she was gone. Had she crept off on her own... or had something happened to her?

He couldn't discount either possibility. Ingo hadn't been in the ranch house, either. He had to find them, both of them, and quickly.

The obvious choice to search was the barn right in front of him and Link didn't hesitate. He had promised Malon that he would fix things for her, undo the calamity that had befallen the ranch over those seven long years of darkness, and he meant to keep his word. He would save her, find her father and ensure that Ingo never harmed either of them again. Then, he would slay the monster responsible for it all - Ganondorf, evil king of Hyrule.

With such grand ambitions in mind, the young hero could hardly hesitate to confront some greedy ranch hand. Gathering his nerve, Link approached the door to the barn and tugged it wide open, one hand on the hilt of his sword as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior...

Only for his heart to sink into his shoes.

A very pleased Ingo stood in the center of the foul-smelling building, his bright silken clothing a contrast to the pallid ogre who wore them. He was watching Link as the boy entered, seeming not the least surprised to see him returning so soon. Nor was he concerned at the intrusion - calloused hands gripped the wooden stock of a hefty crossbow, loaded with a sturdy bolt and pointed directly at the figure lying on the muddy floor beside him.

Malon was staring at him with tears in her eyes, bound and gagged and disheveled, mumbling pleas through the cloth stuffed inside her mouth, frightened out of her wits. Link's knuckled whitened in anger at the sight - he had listened to the story of her suffering at Ingo's hands, but now he saw her pain first-hand, and it all became more real. The bright, cheerful girl he remembered so clearly had grown up into a sorrowful, broken young woman, beaten and cowed, crushed by weeks of torment and years of abuse.

"Let her go, Ingo." Somehow her managed to keep his voice level despite the rage coursing through him, fingers slipping from his weapon to his side. Provoking him now could cost Malon her life. "She doesn't deserve this."

Ingo snorted in return, keeping the crossbow aimed squarely at his captive. "Yes, I went to all of this trouble tying her up just to release her on command. I think not... Link, isn't it? The boy playing at being a hero? The one who dares to challenge King Ganondorf?"

"What's the point of this?" Link snapped, his anger conquering his self-control. Still, he didn't dare reach for his sword. Not yet. "What do you want?"

"I want you to surrender, boy." Ingo growled, reinforcing his grip on the crossbow. "Throw down your weapons and put your hands on your head, and Malon gets to see another sunrise. Unless you want to try something stupid and get her killed, of course... but you won't."

Malon was weeping by now, paralyzed by fear. She wanted to shake her head and tell him not to surrender, to forget about her and save himself, but she didn't want to die. Not even now. Even the relentless shattering of her spirit had not drained her will to live. The heroine often went though her share of hardship, but she always earned a happy ending... right?

Link grimaced, considering his scant options. He had vowed to save the poor girl from her plight. Causing her death would be unforgivable. Yet... if he surrendered, he would put himself at the mercy of Ingo and by extension, of Ganondorf. Link was the land's last hope, the only one with the power to slay the evil king and return the land to the light. Only he could end Hyrule's seven year nightmare. Was one girl's life worth condemning everyone else to lives of horrific tyranny? Even if he did surrender as Ingo demanded, was there any guarantee that Malon would be spared? Ingo was hardly a man whose word could be trusted. 

Though the knowledge made his noble young heart ache, Link knew what his answer must be. The most difficult choice he had made in his life was barely a choice at all.

"I can't surrender."

Those determined words filled Malon's heart with a sickening mix of selfless satisfaction and icy, all-consuming horror. It pleased her that Ingo would not get his way for once, but there was no hiding the fact that his choice had doomed her. She was going to die and there was nothing she could do to prevent it. She tried to hold back her tears, wishing at least to face death with a little more dignity than she had been allowed in life. At least she was wearing clothes this time.

Her certainty was reinforced by the rumbling growl that rose from Ingo's throat as his face reddened and contorted in fury. "I thought you were supposed to be the hero, boy. This is your last chance." He lowered the tip of the crossbow to brush against the side of Malon's head, drifting through her auburn locks and grazing against her creamy flesh. "On your knees. Weapons down. Now"

Feeling the sharpness of the crossbow bolt pressing against her skin was too much for the farm girl. She let out a sob, stifled by the handkerchief stuffed inside her mouth, visions of the bolt punching through her skull leaving her sickeningly faint. She was going to die. Ingo was going to kill her, and Link wasn't going to save her. Her wrists worked frantically against the rope binding them behind her back, but burning friction was her only reward. They were simply too tight, too expertly tied.

"I'm sorry, Malon." Link's voice was choked by grief, but never was there a flicker of indecisiveness. "I... I can't surrender. I'm the only one who can who can end Ganondorf's reign. Please... please understand..."

Malon did understand, beneath the suffocating fear and the flicker of resentment. She knew why Link couldn't be her hero after all, why he couldn't lay down his life when all of Hyrule was at stake... but that didn't make it any easier. She was no less terrified, and she could offer him no look of forgiveness in return, only the cascading tears of a girl whose life would be all too brief.

In the end, it was those tears that finally cracked Link's resolve. 

He couldn't do it. He couldn't condemn the kind, carefree girl of seven years to die in a barn before seeing her twenties. She deserved another chance at life in the world after Ganondorf, not a painful death at the hands of some vindictive ogre. No matter the cost, he couldn't let her die because of him. It was not his way.

There was only one way he could save Malon and Hyrule both. Only one chance.

A deep breath to steel himself, a flexing of his fingers in readiness, and Link catapulted himself at Ingo with his sword in hand, his shining weapon cleaving the air in a downward arc. One strike, one last hope to save Malon and Hyrule both.

Eyes wide, Ingo pivoted to meet the attack.

The crossbow loosed its bolt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original version of this story had two endings after this chapter, a good one and a bad one. I'm not sure what I intend to do with them this time around - I liked the way the good one fit into canon, but have a soft spot for the other one.


	8. Ending 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote this story years ago, it had two endings - a 'bad' ending that follows the logical conclusion of the story, and a 'good' ending that tried to line up with what canonically happened. This is the second of those endings, but even adjusting parts of it, I'm really not happy with it at all. I'm adding it here for the sake of completeness, because it didn't feel right to just add one when it was a two-ending story, but being compliant with canon came at the cost of being compliant with the story itself. ...I've been putting this off, but I need it over and done with so I can get back to something I enjoy writing.

_Clunk._

The metallic shield vibrated against the boy's arm with the impact, making him grit his teeth, but the crossbow bolt dropped to the floor as harmless as a snowflake, the tip bent flat and useless. 

The hero's sword cleaved the crossbow into splinters before Ingo could load another.

Malon's heart soared.

Ingo squeaked. His mouth fell open, lips speechlessly quivering, beady eyes widening in terror as Link brought the sword back to shoulder height in preparation for a second swing. He stumbled backward, shoes sliding in the muck, the remains of his weapon tumbling from his shaking hands.

Link's hands were clenched so tightly about the grip of his blade that Malon feared he might break it in two. For a moment she dared to think that he might truly cut Ingo's head from his shoulders.

In the end, he did not. Instead, discarding notions of vengeance for the moment, he knelt beside Malon and worked the scarf from between her teeth, plucking the filthy handkerchief from her tongue. "Are you all right?!" he demanded, voice sharp as his sword. "Did he hurt you?!"

"Only a little." Malon whispered, as if it were too trivial to mention. The crown of her head still throbbed with pain, but it paled beside the exhilaration of rescue, and she rolled onto her stomach to allow Link to untie her wrists and ankles, smiling at the realization that her dreams were coming true. Her hero had come for his damsel in distress after all.

He was quick to unbind Malon's wrists, and she was quick to rub them, massaging he reddened skin as she sought to restore feeling to her hands. Ingo's rope-work had been mercilessly tight, cutting riveted trails into her soft skin, and she winced as her eyes found the marks, feeling Link's efforts to free her ankles all the more keenly. The bitter memories of her helpless night in the dung stable, wrists tearing with every futile attempt at escape, resurfaced in Malon's mind, and she shot a hateful glare at Ingo, almost wishing that Link had killed him after all...

Ingo wasn't there.

The twisted little man was nowhere in sight, the barn door hanging open when before it had been closed, and Malon's gasp of horror made Link look up from his work, eyes narrowing as he too noticed the obvious. They had both been caught up in the reunion, dismissed Ingo as a threat, and now...

One final tug of the ropes to free Malon's ankles and the hero was on his feet again, his sword in hand.

~ ~ ~

Link had expected Ingo to run for the gates of the ranch and out into the fields of Hyrule, but again the owner surprised him. 

Bursting from the barn, adrenaline running high, it took Link a moment to find the scrambling silhouette of the ranch master against the glare of the afternoon sun, but the lanky shape of his quarry was unmistakable as he glanced towards the central fields, in completely the opposite direction to the ranch's entrance. He was making a beeline for the very center of the ranch, cornering himself with the cows and the cuccos...

And the horses.

Realization struck, and Link bolted for the field, leaving Malon to scramble out of the barn door behind him. Ingo was planning on escaping on horseback, and if his intuition was correct, there was one horse in particular that the gangly owner would seek.

Epona grazed at the eastern edge of the field, unaware.

Link was in superb shape, his athletic body befitting a chosen hero, but Ingo was capable of moving surprisingly fast, halfway across the field before Link even reached the outskirts. Maybe it was fear that drove him, but whatever it was, he was almost out of Link's reach, and by now it was obvious that he was heading straight for Epona.

Link ran faster, pushing himself to his limits.

~ ~ ~

Ingo approached Epona with the caution of a veteran ranch hand.

The chestnut mare wasn't saddled up, and hadn't been for a very long time, but she was the fastest steed in the stable, and right now speed was what Ingo required. On her back, he would flee to the ruins of the Castle Town and beg King Ganondorf for aid. Surely his lord wouldn't refuse him, not when he already wanted the wretched boy dead.

Epona ignored him.

He had never been loved by the animals, even before the darkness fell. That had always been Malon's talent, and no sweet words or inviting gestures copied from her could lure the mare to his side. She refused to look at him, swishing her tail dismissively, and every second brought the boy closer, closer, his boots thundering against the dirt. Ingo could feel those blazing blue eyes on his back.

Setting his jaw, he snarled in frustration and moved in to seize control of the mare. He had owned this ranch for seven years now, and worked here a decade before that. He could handle one single temperamental mare.

"Ingo, stop!" 

Link's voice was far too close. It was now or never. He lunged for Epona, throwing caution to the wind.

The crack of hooves striking bone echoed throughout the fields.

~ ~ ~

When Ingo awoke, several hours later, Malon and Link were waiting for him.

The rafters of the barn hung over his head, hay scratchy against his back. His skull rang with terrible pain, blurring his thoughts. His hands were tied, knotted in the same rope he had used to bind Malon.

The first thing he did was to ask why Mira was still alive.

Link was confused, wondering if the blow Ingo had taken to the head had done as much damage to his brain as Malon had feared. There was nobody in the barn but the three of them, and he had never heard the name before, but Malon...

Her lovely features had paled in shock.

"My mother has been dead for a very long time, Ingo," she whispered, biting her lip as she stared down at the man's bloodied and bandaged visage. She had done her best to treat him, despite her misgivings. If nothing else, she wanted him alive to be punished. She had thought herself ready to see him die for what he had done to her, but...

"But you..." Ingo slowly sat up, seemingly unaware of his bound hands, squinting at her in confusion of his own. "Malon? Is... is that you?"

The girl frowned, taking a step back from him, edging behind Link. "Of course it's me. Don't pretend you don't know me, Ingo. You can't-"

"You're... all grown up."

~ ~ ~

He remembered nothing. For Ingo it was as if the last eight years had never happened at all.  
Before long, he was asking where Talon was and if his boss knew that he was sleeping on the job, and why his hands were tied together. Had Malon been playing a game? It wasn't nice to tie people up while they were asleep, he chided her as he climbed to his feet, presenting his hands to her for release. He hadn't realized that Malon was growing up so fast, he explained as he rubbed his blurry eyes. She was almost the very image of her mother now.

Somehow Malon found the presence of mind to lie to him. To tell him that Talon had gone to the city for a few weeks, and that she was in charge until her father returned. She acted surprised when Ingo could not remember the falling roof tile that had dealt him such a woeful head injury and recommended that he take it easy for a bit.

All the while, her stomach was churning and her head spinning. Had he really forgotten everything? Had Epona really done that much damage?

Had a single kick erased seven years of evil?

The more she observed him, the more it seemed to be true. The trauma of his injury truly seemed to have changed him, completely wiping away the memories of his countless misdeeds and his ownership of the ranch, and of Ganondorf's takeover of the land. He was back to how he had always been before Talon's exile; lazy and somewhat resentful, but a world away from the cruel tyrant he had once become.

And so he remained. 

Nothing changed when Link departed the ranch to continue his journey to save Hyrule, leaving a wary Malon alone with Ingo once again. Nothing changed when Talon returned to the ranch, Link's tale at the forefront of his mind, and tearfully reunited with his long-lost daughter. Nothing changed when Malon was made the official owner of the ranch she had given so much of herself to preserve.

Ingo had forgotten it all, but Malon never would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be adding the darker ending soon. Probably rewriting it from scratch though, because I'm really not satisfied with this.


	9. Ending 2

The bonds that wedded Malon's hands behind her back were no longer fashioned of rope, but of heavy, rusty steel.

Her clothes were gone. Her creamy skin was filthy from constant contact with the grimy basement floor, her auburn hair a tangled, dirty mess hanging lank about her face like a ragged curtain. Her nostrils were filled with the scent of wet straw and her own unwashed body, but her eyes were filled with nothing.

A trickle of sticky white fluid dripped from her lips, but she barely felt its passing.

She had given her master what he wanted. She had obeyed his sordid orders once again, putting her mouth to the use he demanded, the only use he would have of her. It had been far from the first time, but she dared to hope that it would be the last; every time, she wondered if her latest degradation would finally be enough, if he would at last decide that she had taken her fill of suffering and let her leave this place, let her breathe fresh air and feel the sunlight on her skin once more. If he would show even the faintest glimmer of humanity beneath the mask of the creature he had twisted himself into.

Instead, heavy boot-steps ascended the narrow stairs without hesitation, the door at their apex slamming shut and taking with it the last of the light.

Malon spat the taste of him onto the floor, and wept.

How had it come to this?

Stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid boy.

Why had he thrown away his life?

She had relived that day in her head a thousand times over since Ingo had left her here with nothing but her memories for company. The image of the fairy boy sprawled on the ground with a crossbow bolt protruding from his chest haunted her every single day of her new life, as vivid and heartbreaking as ever. 

She had wanted a hero, but not like _this_. 

The hero who would risk his life for her, not the one who _actually died_ for her. 

And all, ultimately, for nothing.

She was _alive_ , yes, but only in that she was still breathing. Her life, miserable as it had been, had all but ended on that terrible day, and instead she had been left with _this_. An eternity of cold and darkness and pain and degradation, a hole in the ground to relieve herself in, a chain for her shackles that leashed her to the wall like the animal he had made her become. When she dared to sing loud enough that he could hear her, the bridle to stifle her tongue and weigh her head down. This was no life at all. Perhaps she had been consigned to Hell after all.

How long this had gone on, she couldn't say. There was no light in the basement to mark time by, nothing but the wants of her body. Days, certainly. Weeks, perhaps. Had someone told her half a year, she would not have doubted.

It didn't matter, in the end. The broken farm girl harbored no genuine hope of escaping her fate anymore... and during her countless hours stranded in the lonely dark, it had crossed her mind that she simply didn't deserve to. 

After all, It was her fault that the hero who had been meant to save all of Hyrule had died in a dirty barn. Her fault that the land still languished in Ganondorf's clutches, decaying a little more every day. Her fault that nobody was coming to rescue her, to do away with Ingo, to save poor Epona and the rest of her beloved animals from her master's lash.

If she had hoped that believing in her guilt would make the punishment easier to bear, she had been mistaken.

Tears blotting her face, Malon curled her bruised knees towards her naked chest and hummed her familiar song as loud as she dared, the forlorn notes echoing through the basement in memory of the girl who had once been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second, less happy ending. Heavily reworked from the original.
> 
> Overall, this story isn't as good as I remembered it being, even after heavy editing. Oh well.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published from May to September 2012. ...2012? Really? Okay. Making a few improvements this time around. Revised chapters will be added over the next few days.


End file.
